stoush.net

Of course it’s a Satanic site. It is the point on the Star of David that the Freemason Satanist Burley Griffin superimposed on Canberra, overlooking his proposed Temple of Mammon - the War Memorial is built where he originally proposed a casino. Coincidence? I think not.

Personally, if I wanted to combat witchcraft amongst the Feds I start with Treasury. Mind you, that Ken Henry does remind me a tadge of the Witchsmeller Pursuivant.

Maybe. But isn’t every man presumed innocent until speculated guilty?

Also, note, please, that the metal-loving hoons of Canberra are counter-organising.
I would pay good money to see who could get to the top of Mount Ainslie, like Nathaniel Forrest, fust with the most men—the fire-catching Christians or the rather more numerous V8 hooligans belting thrash metal. Nothing says “do what thou wilt” like drinking Jack Daniels in the back of a 1990s Commodore at night on the top of a hill.

Ahem. In Canberra they’re called “boons”.

And both teams would probably be stuck at one of those pill-box bunker bus stops, waiting for a bright orange bus that never arrives: Waiting for Fluoro.

I’ve always wondered about the etymology of “boon”, Fedya. Is it a bogan-hooligan, contracted in the newspeak fashion, or a reference to the cricketer, or someone who lives in the boondocks?

And both teams would probably be stuck at one of those pill-box bunker bus stops

Heh. I’ve not once been in one of those bus stops that didn’t smell of potsmoke. Any other city, they’d reek of human waste, but in Canberra they’re polite like that.

I’ve always wondered about the etymology of “boon”, Fedya. Is it a bogan-hooligan, contracted in the newspeak fashion, or a reference to the cricketer, or someone who lives in the boondocks?

A mystery for the ages, Haiku Hoges, lost in the sands of Lake Burley Griffin’s artificial beach [fully sic]. My own theory is that it’s a neological fusion of NSWelsh “hoon” and Victorian “bogan”, representing the two dominant subcultures of Canberra in the crucially formative period of the 1970-1980s.

Maybe it’s Cordie-talk, dunno.

Heh. I’ve not once been in one of those bus stops that didn’t smell of potsmoke. Any other city, they’d reek of human waste, but in Canberra they’re polite like that.

You obviously haven’t caught a bus in Tuggers/lived.

You obviously haven’t caught a bus in Tuggers/lived

I will make a point of catching a bus to Tuggeranong and back the next time I am in Burley-Griffinburgh. If it’s any more representative of Canberra life than being paralytically drunk in the passenger seat of a Toyota Echo, lost in Belconnen—which I have done—I’ll organise a Thelemic Mass complete with nude Priestess at Mount Ainslie just for you.

If it’s any more representative of Canberra life than being paralytically drunk in the passenger seat of a Toyota Echo, lost in Belconnen

Myeah…prolly not: same-same, I reckon. Skip it, is my advice. For one thing, the human waste may enjoy your anthropological excursion even less than you will. For another, now that I’ve discovered your talent for priestess procurement, we can cut out the pretense.

the human waste may enjoy your anthropological excursion even less than you will

Yes well I don’t recall it being a spectacularly fun drive. We probably received the magickal Canberran ritual salute to foreigners.

Youse are obviously from the boondocks, and it’s “booner” in full.

For my recommendation of a spectacularly entertaining Canberra experience, take some acid late one night and wander down the Anzac Avenue war memorials. One has a particularly good bench on it, about half way up.

Or so I hear.

“For my recommendation of a spectacularly entertaining Canberra experience, take some acid late one night and wander down the Anzac Avenue war memorials.”

Brevity is your friend.

My surreal Canberra experience was blowing a radiator trying to get out, with a Camry full of drumset and amps, on a Sunday, having already left the keys to my mate’s house we’d been crashing in inside the empty house.

Got smashed in the park on cheap scotch, joined the Belconnen Magpies Leages Club so I could get a steak and watch the footy, declined two kind offers to punch my lights out and one for a root (I think that’s what she said), then broke into my mate’s house with only mild buckling of garage door.

Next day - bacon and egg pie, new radiator, 2L bottle of Coke, and I didn’t look back till Gundagai.

It’s like Hunter S. Thompson by the shores of Lake George, FDB. Me, I don’t even make the turnoff from the Hume to the Federal Highway without my Samoan attorney present.

take some acid late one night and wander down the Anzac Avenue war memorials

[sings: Generals gathered in their masses, just like witches at black masses…]

declined two kind offers to punch my lights out and one for a root (I think that’s what she said)

Foreplay’s pretty rough in Canberra.

That’s not foreplay Canberra-style—that’s a bidding war.

They do the same thing in other cities, it’s just that at the end, someone owns a house.

And they bang a gavel.

ahem..just for the incomplete record, obviously biased by my 1. living in aforesaid city of illrepute and 2. being a said participant but not of the booney sect, nor one of religous zealotry - I would like to draw your attention to this suspicious item

and furthermore since I have your completely undivided attention let me add that Canberra is only a good place to take acid or other hallucinogenic substances when one is in suitable company, much like any other part of the world. If I’m going to envisage demons stealing my mind or soul then one needs to do it in company, safety in numbers an all

that is all go back to your rabble

We’re touring again now, and in Surry Hills at the Excelsior tonight if you two japesters have nothing on.

Actually, put some pants on at least.